


ten steps ahead (don't leave me behind)

by FeoplePeel



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Domestic, Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet the Family, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: "You're like a chess player who's ten steps ahead!"...which worked out well, as Darryl often found himself retracinghis ownsteps in somewhat of a rush with the dazed thought, "Oh God, oh God, how did I end up here?"A series of snapshots from the life of Josh "WhiJo" Wilson and the Whitefeathers Post S2





	1. our own order

**Author's Note:**

> There is an incredibly small amount of fanfiction for these two. Here's to rectifying that! At the moment these are all General Audience, should that change I'll bump up the rating. Thanks to [Liz](http://goddamnrey.tumblr.com/), my lovely beta.

Hector was patting himself dry with a flimsy fistful of napkins by the time he sat across the table from Josh.

“It's still raining?” Josh asked more out of a sense of communal disbelief than sheer idiocy. It only took a look outside to know that, yes, it was raining as it had been for the past day and a half in the normally dry city. He guessed if anyone needed it, it was California, but he wasn't looking forward to walking through the downpour to the gym.

“How long have you been sitting here, man?” Hector threw the napkins to the corner of their table.

Josh thought about this. "Two hours?”

Darryl had texted him when he didn’t show up with lunch, and he had made the excuse that he was waiting at Home Base for Hector before work. This wasn’t technically a lie in the way that when one says, _I’m going to sleep,_ what they they mean is, _I’m going to lay in the bed and stare at the ceiling until, hopefully, sleep drags me beneath its dreamy clutches,_ isn't technically a lie _._ It still bothered him. Avoidance wasn't his style.

“--and seminary might be good for him,” Hector was saying when Josh paid attention.

“You’re talking about Chan? I don’t care what Josh does. He’ll stick with this as long as every other commitment. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“But he doesn’t care...” Hector rolled his eyes, nodding at Heather as she set a beer in front of him with a little more force than necessary.

“This might shock you, but I’ve got issues in my own life to work through.”

“That...does, actually.” Hector paused, glass halfway to his lips. “That shocks me. What’s up?”

“Darryl wants kids. _A_ kid,” he corrected quickly because the thought of one alone was enough. “I don’t know."

Hector brought the glass to his lips then. It was the sort of announcement that required a long drink of something. Preferably alcoholic. "That’s heavy. You two haven't even moved in together.”

“He’s,” Josh searched and settled on, “traditional. Marriage, two houses becoming one, that sort of thing.”

“Man, he’s old." Hector took another swallow and corrected, "fashioned. Old fashioned."

"How is it that you have a relationship advice podcast? He's _sweet_." Josh leveled a scathing look in his direction refusing, at least in this, to be swayed. Occasionally impulsive and prone to endearingly unrealistic ideas maybe, but sweet nonetheless.

Josh had thought that Darryl, of all people, would understand the more modern objections to matrimony having had his pride and a sizable chunk of feelings burnt up in the wake of a fairly unsuccessful one. But marriage, his mother had told him once, was like a virus, passing from couple to couple, regardless of age or experience.

In retrospect, it had been a strange thing for a happily married woman to say to her thirteen year old son, but at the time, Josh was more concerned with sticking his tongue down Brent Weaver’s throat than his mother’s thoughts on society’s outdated concept of marriage.

He raised an eyebrow when Hector slapped a hand to his shoulder. "Bummer."

"It's fine. He just gets these fantastic notions sometimes. He needs someone to pace them. He'll be easier to talk to when he...winds down a little." What Josh didn’t say, and likely didn’t have to, was how wound up he had _been_. A (not-quite) wedding, in front of Madison no less, was probably _not_ the best place to have the ‘where is this relationship heading’ talk.

Particularly not _that_ wedding.

" _Kids_ isn’t a wild idea. That’s, like, entrapment, dude."

"Hey, I want kids.” Josh laughed, shrugging off his friend’s hand. “Just not _today_."

"I guess.” Hector shrugged. “It's not like going to the pound and getting a puppy."

Josh pointed at him. “That’s it.”

* * *

Madison answered the door, mouth open and eyebrows drawn down. Before she could say anything, Josh pressed a small package into her hand. She unwrapped it and stared at the stack of chocolate cookies with unwavering scrutiny before stepping aside to let him in.

He took off his shoes and draped his jacket beside Madison’s small, green one, examining the foyer as he did. Hector was right, Darryl’s home wasn’t _technically_ his, but not spending the night for a week, especially with Madison there, had been some sort of break in their unspoken contract. If he was just going to use his place to run away and think, he might as well sell it and save the money. He had the gym for that, and it’d cause less problems in the long run.

“How much trouble am I in?”

She crossed her arms. “We watched Masterchef Junior without you last night.”

“ _Ouch_.” He pressed his hands over his heart. “Sorry, Madison.”

She rolled her eyes, and Josh found himself pulled into a quick embrace that was more like a pat down on both of his hips from a very tiny security guard and somehow still one of the best hugs of his life.

“Go cheer Dad up, _please_. He’s so bad at pretending to be happy, and I’ve tried everything.”

He ruffled her hair and waited until she disappeared up the stairs.

“Madison, who was it?” Darryl half-turned from his spot on the couch. “Oh, Josh!”

“I hear you watched Masterchef without me. Tell me Anna made it through.”

“She made a tarte framboises that _killed_. I’ll show you.” Darryl turned back to the television, patting the space beside him, and Josh momentarily ignored the way Darryl’s French accent affected him as it had since he said pâté (and how that had worked was something Josh had never fully examined--how did that turn anyone on, _pâté_?). “Don’t let Madison’s adorable brown eyes fool you, we DVR’d it.”

In his mind, Josh took the remote, paused it and apologized for panicking about children (despite the fact that this was exactly the sort of thing that one tended to panic over) and fleeing to his bolthole. But...he really did want to see this episode and, by the end, found himself in a more comfortable position to speak anyway, stretched out on the couch with his head resting on Darryl’s knee.

“I thought about what you said.”

The hand in Josh’s hair stilled. “What I said?”

“Babies, D. You said we should have a baby?”

“Oh, that? That was a joke!” Darryl said, laughing too loud after an almost embarrassingly long moment. “I was joking!”

“No, you weren’t.”

“...all right, _no_ , I wasn’t.” Darryl rolled his eyes and looked so much like Madison that Josh found himself smiling despite the situation. Darryl must have found this somewhat encouraging as, instead of spiraling into self-deprecating babbling, he repeated simply, “You thought about what I said, and...?”

“Hard pass, _for now_ ,” he added quickly, bracing a hand to the ground to push himself to a sitting position. “We watched Rebecca and Josh implode last week, and you're still _so sure_ about this that if I asked you to marry me right now, you'd say yes.”

“Of course I would!”

“And I am loving that confidence but…” He winced. Darryl fell back on the couch cushions. “I think you're impulsive, like them. Never listening to anyone who told them, you know, maybe wait a minute. I need you to listen to me. Hold on.”

In his jacket was a card, the sort of which he hadn’t made since he was seven and celebrating Valentine’s Day with his mother for the last time. He remembered the general principle of the thing and spent a large chunk of his time with a ten-year-old girl, besides. All it took was construction paper, a glue stick, glitter--which would always wind up mostly on your person no matter how careful you were--and a marker (colors optional and, with the Whitefeathers, preferred).

The idea of the card had been better in his head, but with this as in most things, he had set an intention.

Darryl stared at the card with undisguised delight, seemingly uncaring that red glitter was falling between the cushions of his couch. Knowing Darryl, these little specks would be something he would refuse to vacuum up, would occasionally pick up on the tip of his finger and show off to Josh with the same sappy expression one gets when relishing a shared joke. _Remember that time?_

" _Will you (and Madison) buy a puppy with me?_ " Darryl read out loud, finally setting the card aside when Josh sat.

“Or an older dog. I’m not picky.”

“You do have a type.” Darryl smiled wider, and Josh leaned in to kiss him lightly at the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“Oh, this is so sweet.” Darryl bit his lip, snatching up the card again. “But, Josh, we can’t keep a dog here. The fencing ordinances alone, and even if we did put one up, the back yard would be tiny! Madison complains about it all the time.”

“I know.” And he did because he was the one she complained _to_ , every time they took her to Del Norte Park on Rowland, which was packed with dogs. “And my place has a no-pets policy.”

“It was a nice gesture.” Darryl reached over to pat his hand, and Josh chuckled.

“D, I _know_ you can’t keep a dog here,” he repeated. “And I can’t keep a dog at my place. So…”

Josh raised his eyebrows significantly. He tilted his head significantly. He cleared his throat significantly. If the moment held any more _significance,_ he was sure one of them would be choking on it.

“ _Oh!_ ” Darryl straightened. “Oh gosh! Are you asking me to--”

“Yep.” And Josh considered that if asking someone to buy a house with him was somehow less stressful than asking for their hand in marriage then he had made the right decision in avoiding the whole business. “So...yes?”

“Yes.” Darryl grabbed his face between his palms and kissed him in a moment Josh would later recall with great detail. Something synonymous to _significance_. “Yes, of course.”

* * *

The first time Josh offered to pick Madison up from school on the way back from work it had been more for Madison than Darryl; one in a series of gestures to the girl. He hadn’t expected to already _be_ on her list of emergency contacts, but he met the fact with the same patient composition that, if anything, left him more prepared to deal with every interaction with the Whitefeathers. Darryl had told Josh that he thought ten steps ahead, but lately he didn’t feel as though he was living up to that by a half-measure.

Madison, at least, was simple. She liked snails and cooking shows and horses with wings and only certain flavour candies (blueberry for the sours, strawberry for the sweets). She was decent at baseball and kept good grades and tried as hard as her dad at everything she did. Josh liked most kids as a general rule, but he liked _Madison_ as a small person because she possessed the sort of pride that only a ten-year-old girl can have, before they learn about things like shame, _real_ shame, and asked interesting questions. And she accepted the answers Darryl and he gave only until a point which was even better in Josh’s book.

“Dad says you're buying us a puppy.”

“That's the plan.”

“Today?”

Josh took her hand, looking up and down the road before crossing. "If you want."

Josh turned twenty seven three months ago. It wasn’t a landmark event because nothing life changing is meant to happen at the age of twenty seven. Not like Madison’s eleventh which was fast approaching and would be historic if only because it would be _the first of the double digit, same digits, don’t you see, WhiJo?_ That, and children tended to care more about the minute details of what went right (and wrong) at a party, even if it only involved a few friends watching a Blu-ray copy of _Monster High_ and slowly working their way through an entire Minecraft cake.

Twenty seven _shouldn’t_ be landmark, but that was how old Darryl was when Madison was born. And he had already finished law school and started a firm, and Josh didn't know how he felt about that. It explained, at least in part, why marriage and a baby seemed completely normal to someone like Darryl who, at age twenty seven, was married and changing his first diaper.

He stared down at Madison who had the look of one left waiting too long for an answer.

“Maybe we’ll just flip through the website pictures until your dad gets home. He’s not going to like being left out.”

“It’s okay. He knows I need some solo time with my cool dad.”

“I’m the cool dad?” She stared at him for a telling moment. Josh grinned. “I’m the cool dad.”


	2. breaking and entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh meets (some of) the family. It goes about how he expected.

A familiar looking woman was sitting in Darryl’s kitchen nursing a steaming cup of something. The familiarity, he realized, came from the fact that she was wearing _Darryl’s_ shirt, which ran rather long on her. If she was wearing anything beneath that, Josh thought after a quick glance down, it was nothing visible.

He'd read this story and he knew how this went. This would be the part where he walked in and found his boyfriend had given into the cruel cycle of cheating as begun by his non-descript ex-wife (because describing her would mean using words Josh liked to reserve for special occasions such as extreme pain or particularly stressful episodes of The Great British Bake Off) by sleeping with someone else...except this was _Darryl_. Even if Josh could believe that about him, there was Madison to think of.

Madison who was somewhere behind Josh, still putting away her shoes, and in only a moment would see this woman in her father’s kitchen and--

"Aunt Sarah!”

...would push past him to hug her.

“Maddie!” She jumped from the stool to squeeze Madison around the waist and, in a moment that was both a blessing and a curse, Josh caught the sight of underwear.

“Where are your pants?” Madison pulled back, obviously noticing the woman (Sarah, _Aunt_ Sarah, she had said) was slightly less clothed than a normal hug recipient.

“In the wash. Long, _strange_ story,” Sarah waved her off. “Where’s your dad and _who’s_ the cute babysitter?”

“That’s Josh.” Madison thumbed over her shoulder, casting a glance back at him. “Daddy’s boyfriend.”

“Hi, Darryl’s boyfriend. I’m his sister, Sarah _Madison_ Whitefeather.” Sarah dropped a wink at a giggling Madison. Josh could see the resemblance in the face, but her manner was decidedly _unlike_ her brother’s.

“Nice to meet you,” Josh said, finally composing himself and taking a step forward to offer his hand. “Darryl, um, honestly he’s never mentioned you.”

“I figured.” She gripped his hand once before letting it drop. The thought crossed Josh's mind that she shook hands the way a lawyer did, but he would bet good money that she _wasn't_ a lawyer. “In all fairness he never mentioned _you_ either. Though, between you and my own self, I’m glad it’s you who walked in the door and not his bitch of a wife.”

Josh whipped his head around to find Madison busy opening a Tupperware of leftover lasagna and not paying any attention when he didn't outright disagree. “They’re divorced.”

“Oh man! I’m way behind the times,” she laughed. “Good for him!”

Josh felt a wrinkle form between his eyebrows. “How long has it been since the two of you spoke?”

A wrinkle, similar to his, appeared between Sarah’s brows. “Two and a half years.”

“Military?” Josh guessed and felt his lips lift into a hopeful smile.

She shrugged. “Prison.”

His smile dropped. “Oh.”

* * *

Sarah was a paranormal investigator. This was not so much a profession in California as it was a professional hobby that the very determined (and the very convinced) could make a living from. Still, once she had explained her time in prison was, eventually, voluntary ( _B &E, originally--one of Darryl and Stacy’s clients, actually--but California prisons just have such a colorful, disturbing history I asked to stay on and observe!_) and, more importantly, fully clothed Sarah was delightful to talk to.

Then Darryl came home.

Josh wasn’t stupid. As nice as Sarah was and as much as Madison liked her, he had immediately shot off a series of texts to Darryl upon meeting, first, a strange woman in his kitchen and, second, realizing said strange woman was his hitherto unspoken of sister.

They went something like:

 **_WhiJo [3:07]  
_ ** _there’s a lady here_

 **_WhiJo [3:07]  
_** _sorry, in your kitchen._

 **_WhiJo [3:11]  
_** _false alarm just your sister. we’ll talk about THAT later._

 **_WhiJo [3:32]  
_** _Sarah says you need a new washer because this one has been ‘touched by essence of a level 2 poltergeist’??? this conversation is amazing._

Okay, so, the last was more a running commentary that began when Josh realized that Darryl must be busy, but the point stood: Darryl should not have been _surprised_ to see his sister sharing a plate of lasagna with Madison and yet this was the emotion written all over his face.

Sarah, on the other hand...was smiling. Josh didn’t have brothers or sisters, but he had grown up with a group of boys who did, and could instantly recognize the smile of someone who was about to make their sibling’s life just a bit unbearable.

“Darryl, you have a boyfriend now?” She said before Darryl could work his mouth around a ‘hello’.

It may have been cowardly of Josh, but later he would argue it was a temporary form of non-interventionism when he gently took Madison’s shoulders and steered her upstairs to her room.

Besides, Master Chef was on in ten minutes.

* * *

When Madison was called downstairs it was to say goodbye and, Josh imagined that whatever needed to be said had been. Both Whitefeathers looked unscathed; a bit red around the eyes perhaps, but if Sarah was anything like Darryl, Josh was more surprised they weren’t crying _still_ . Darryl reached for her jacket and she shot a hand out to clasp his wrist. “Watch out, bro, that's _covered_ in ectoplasm. I had to douse my jeans in _Shout_.”

Darryl stared at the jacket, obviously startled. “Does that help with...ghost gunk?”

Sarah’s silence could fill a volume. “It's a work in progress.”

“I don’t think I believe in ghosts,” Madison stated with unquestionable practicality.

“That’s okay.” Sarah ran a hand over the girl’s hair. “I’ll protect you from them anyway.”

“Bye, Aunt Sarah.” Madison hugged her, as undeterred by ectoplasm as she had been by snails. If anything the thought of spiritual residue on an item of clothing probably appealed to her.

“Let me know when you guys find a new place! I'll give it a run down, check for level ones and twos before you settle in. I don't think you have to worry about the big guys out here in West Covina.” She winked at Josh, who felt uncomfortable smiling at fringe pseudoscience when it was pointed directly _at him_.

“What about you?” Darryl drew her attention.

“Me?” She shoved her hands in her pocket. “I guess I could find a place in town. We could do Christmas or something.”

“Sounds great,” Darryl said almost before she finished speaking. “Doesn’t that sound great, Madison?”

“Yeah!” Madison smiled.

“Great,” Josh noticed that Sarah’s answering smile was as uncomfortable as his own had been. “Later, family!”

* * *

Darryl put Madison to bed--this was an extensive process most nights, which was usually Darryl’s fault--they did the dishes, and _did_ talk. Through it all there was genuine worry on the older man’s face, the sort that marred his features the weeks following Plimpton and the few days leading up to a visit to the doctor with Madison. Josh searched for someone he worried about that much. Darryl maybe, but even that was a stretch because, when push came to shove, the man _was_ a fighter. They wouldn’t be together otherwise.

Madison? No, that wasn’t fair. Worrying about a child was normal, right?

Then he remembered the time he’d watch her take a dive on the hard ground of the baseball pitch. It felt like his body had grown extra hearts to stop he remembered telling Hector later as it had felt a little unfair to tell Darryl who was a sobbing mess over his daughter’s split lip. Madison, of course, was thrilled once the bleeding stopped.

“Sorry about...all of that,” Darryl said, when they were tucked into their own bed (this, too, was an extensive process though at least the blame could be shared between them equally and Josh wasn’t going to complain about that any time soon). “Sarah’s all over the map,” Darryl sighed into Josh’s shoulder. “ _Literally_.”

“She’s your sister.”

This was not an explanation, but a trick that anyone in a serious relationship knew, or should know should they want that relationship to last. Never outright insult your significant other’s loved ones, even if you’re only agreeing. Instead, state a fact about the person. It could be as simple as ‘her hair is brown’ or ‘she brought food today’.

Or, in this case, the simplest fact of all: Sarah was, _simply put_ , Darryl’s sister.

Lay back and watch the floodgates open.

“Stacy _had_ to take Sarah to court for the B &E but…,” Darryl trailed off. “We lost a couple of clients and a lot of respect when I wouldn't take the stand against her,” he scoffed. “Not that it would have mattered. You’ve seen me testify, I’d have been a nervous wreck. I might have _helped_ her.”

“Well, I'm proud of you.” Josh stared down at him, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Family first, right?

Darryl grinned back, settling further down. “You know, she did look better.”

Josh shrugged. “Christmas won’t be boring.”

 


	3. MURPHy's law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Bunch was in the kitchen talking to Joshua--the white one who, yes, looked like a flip-flop, but a flip-flop whose muscles _had more muscles_ \--and making Nathaniel wonder, not for the first time, if it had been a mistake to let Darryl invite him back in for lunches. He'd been great for the man's morale but terrible for productivity (not that there had been much to begin with). Still, thirty minutes in the office was better than, _Sorry I’m ten minutes late! I had to meet WhiJo at this amazing little place at_ yammer, yammer, yammer. Like he cared how his employees were wasting their time (only that it was _being wasted_ ).

Speaking of yammer.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming but leave Maya out of it.” Josh sprinkled a handful of cranberries over the bowl in front of him.

“Why?" Rebecca leaned across the table. "Scared my girl group’s going to get to Josh?”

“What, no. Josh is a big boy he can take care of himself. Maya’s a nice kid and she takes Zumba classes at my gym and, for some reason, Darryl likes her. So chill.”

Rebecca seemed to debate her response before settling on nothing at all, biting into her muffin and falling quiet.

Which left Josh turning to Nathaniel at the coffee maker instead.

“Sup.”

“...yes, hello. Again.”

He watched Josh take his pair of salads towards Darryl’s office, and stirred the coffee in his mug.

_Olive oil dressing, honestly, he calls himself a fitness trainer--_

“What is it with you two?” Bunch had a peculiar talent for speaking around food. Everyone could talk with their mouth full, that wasn’t a talent limited to her. No, her talent lay in being an inexplicably arousing creature to Nathaniel after having witnessed such a disgusting act.

She _must_ be a witch.

“Me and Joshua?” He tapped the stick against the edge of his cup.

“It's White Josh,” she said as flatly as he stared in response. “Nevermind. It's just you two are so much alike I thought you might be buddies. Especially now that you're, what? Darryl’s surrogate son?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, throwing his stick in the trash. _Slam dunk._

“But you can't seem to be in the same room. Is it the testosterone?” She placed her chin in the palm of her hand, feigning curiosity.

Nathaniel risked a quick glance at Darryl’s office. He fought the involuntary twitch at his eye and the clench of his jaw, at the sight of ‘White Josh’s’ feet resting on Darryl’s desk. “Pardon, you think _we’re_ alike?”

“Sure. You’re logical to the point of inanity, symmetrically handsome, way too into fitness.” He opened his mouth and she cut him off. “Blah, blah, blah, I get it. It's not a hobby it's a lifestyle. I’m serious. You two might get along.”

And while it was true he hadn’t technically gotten to know _WhiJo_ when he had come to move Darryl’s things, or during his visits, or any of the other times he had bumped (sometimes literally) into the other man...he did know his friends. And people _like_ him. People like the _other_ Josh. “I know his type, okay? No brain, all muscle, and the muscle that's there is _glamour_ muscle.”

“Woah, woah,” Bunch held up her hands looking more amused than insulted. “Are you _challenging_ White Josh's fitness creds? I bet you couldn't finish his lightest class.”

Something familiar sparked inside of Nathaniel’s chest. No, not sparked. _Snapped_.

His eye twitched.

“Get back to work, Bunch.”

* * *

“Rebecca,” Rebecca looked up at the sound of White Josh’s voice, “did you tell your boss to sign up for my Crossfit Murph Workout class?”

“I didn’t,” she felt her grin expand from cheek to cheek, “but I will buy you whatever kind of kettlebell is the best kind if you record it for me. Wait is a kettlebell an actual bell or a workout? I never looked that up…”

“Bunch.”

 _All right,_ she thought, _time for some inventive lying_.

“He said you don’t know how to...stack your carbs. He _said_ you wouldn't know a good core workout from mildly successful disaster movie _The Core_.”

“Okay, first of all, _The Core_ was not mildly successful. It had mixed reviews and failed to make back it’s budget. Second, I doubt he said any of that.” White Josh shook his head. “But I'm not kicking him out.” Rebecca let out a little squeal. “I’m not recording it either, you animal. Class starts at seven if you want a live show.”

Rebecca clasped her hands together. “Thank you, White Josh!”

“You won’t be thanking me when you’re doing his case work for the next month.”

* * *

The first person Nathaniel ran into inside of the gym was, surprisingly, Darryl.

“You do...Crossfit?”

“Oh _God_ no! I’m here to pick up Maya for _mai tais,_ ” he sing-songed. “Zumba lets out in five. And I see you’re still _pumping iron_.”

It took a few moments for the joke to land. It landed like a wet fish. Their newest client, Iron Pump, was a Danish pump manufacturer looking to break into the American market.

“Please don’t make jokes, Darryl. You’re _bad_ at jokes. Has no one told you that you’re bad at jokes?”

Darryl’s frown was the sort that caused wrinkles came a dull thought from the back of Nathaniel’s mind, and he felt a momentary pang of regret. Luckily it didn’t sit there long, as Josh appeared around the corner only moments later.

“Hey, babe.” There was a brief shuffle of limbs as Josh reached up to peck Darryl on the cheek. Nathaniel had to admit that, while all of the sickeningly sweet attributes of this particular couple’s relationship were ones he avoided in his own life, they tended to have a somewhat euphoric effect on the people around them, himself included. Surprisingly, he had yet to roll his eyes before Josh rounded on him with a smile and a tone Nathaniel would describe as _less_ _than sweet_. “Come on, Plimpton,” he motioned with his head towards the glass doors before disappearing behind them.

“Wait, you’re in Josh’s seven o’clock?” Darryl checked his watch. “That’s his Murph class.”

“I know,” Nathaniel tried not to sound defensive. “I signed up for it, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did,” Darryl spoke slowly and, when Nathaniel said nothing, clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck.”

* * *

Maya was on her second mai tai and feeling pretty good about approaching the karaoke stand when Darryl fell back into the seat across from her, face glued to his phone screen and fighting back laughter.

“D,” she sighed, moving to the other side of the table to look over his shoulder. “Did you fall down the Vine Compilation hole again?”

On the small screen was a sweatier version of the Nathaniel Plimpton she knew, laying on the ground with the camera zoomed so far it made the man nearly unrecognizable.

“I don’t think I get it.” She looked between the screen and Darryl’s face. His shoulders were shaking.

“Rebecca’s livestreaming WhiJo’s Crossfit class.”

“Is Mister Plimpton...taking a break?”

“No, Maya,” Darryl finally let himself chuckle. “That, my dear, is the face of a man for whom things have gone horribly wrong.”


	4. open house (install family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Madison thought it was easy to get what she wanted with one dad...

Madison moved from corner to corner of the room and counted her steps. It was bigger than the room at her dad's house, smaller than the one at her mom's, and the window she stopped at overlooked a big back yard covered in green.

Just right.

“Madison?” The door opened behind her and Dad stepped through. “Something wrong, sweetie? Do you not like the house?”

She grinned. “This is gonna be _my_ room.”

Dad smiled back, seeming to unspool all at once. “Good idea.”

He led her back downstairs where a group of people were clustered at the bottom of the steps.

“So let me get this straight, you heard puppy and went house?” Hector was saying, above the other voices. “Since you were wondering, _that_ is why my moms and I have a successful dating podcast.”

“Hey, shortcake,” Josh ignored him, reaching over the banister to pick Madison  up under the elbows. He lifted her over and placed her in the center of the circle. “Getting the lay of the land?”

Madison thought about the big back yard, perfect puppy size, and the very cool spot in the furthermost right corner of _her_ room. “I know where I want to put my snails.”

He ran a hand over her head. “Right on.”

“For an Open House, it sure is empty.” Hector looked around the spacious living room which was, in fact, devoid of people. Beyond the doorway to the kitchen, Madison could see the woman who had greeted them speaking to a couple Josh’s age.

Josh narrowed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think Sarah’s scaring everyone away with the...equipment?”

Sarah finished _testing the tensile strength of the banister railing_ before she lifted her goggles and pulled down her mask to speak. “There are a few cold spots in your house.”

“Because of all the ghosts,” said Josh flatly and with the barest hint of a smile. Madison recognized the expression. It was one he used on Dad sometimes, when they were bickering, and Dad started speaking very quickly usually about something silly.

Madison would someday learn this expression was known as _fond_ ; a common look thrown across the Whitefeather-Wilson dinner table.

“No, because the heating unit is too small for a house this big. Don’t jump to conclusions, scaredy-cat.” Sarah lifted a brow.

“Ah, of course.”

“You can get them to knock down the price for that.” Hector told Dad, motioning to the other room and the man took off at a quick sprint.

Josh picked up a few crackers and offered one with cheese to Madison. “Which one is your room?” She asked between bites.

“ _If_ we get the house,” the look he shot over her head must have been directed to Hector, as Sarah was back to prodding at the molding. “I'd share a room with your dad, like when I sleep over. Is that...cool?”

“Josh, I'm eleven not five,” she told him in an imitation of his earlier tone. It didn't have quite the same effect, but she did catch him relaxing in nearly the same way her dad had upstairs. “I'm just warning you not to let Daddy decorate whatever room you put your workout stuff in unless you want it covered with feathers and fur.”

Hector laughed somewhere behind her. Josh smiled. His real smile was very pretty.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

* * *

Madison shifted, vision caught between a tart and a chocolate-covered cheesecake bite. She held her breath, waiting for Josh’s inevitable lecture about why each was bad for her growing body, the capitulating sigh, and finally for money to change hands over the bakery counter. She didn’t know why he kept at it. Every visit to the grocery store ended with her getting some sort of sweet, no matter how he harangued her.

Today she was met with silence.

She abandoned her prey, roaming the store until she found Josh. This wasn’t a herculean effort on her part. He could usually be found in one of two places, and he’d recently acquired a third. Josh was straightforward. Challenging without being formidable, simple without being stupid. He answered all the questions she asked him honestly, even when she didn’t understand half of what he was saying.

She barely glanced at the rows of baby formula. “Are we getting a baby?”

“What makes you think that?” Madison was surprised he didn’t answer her right away.

“Daddy _says_ he’s going to turn the room next to mine into a study, and _you_ keep saying it’s going to be a gym,” she pointed out. “But I always find you in this aisle when we go shopping, and I keep finding lists that Daddy wrote with _Baby Names_ at the top.”

“I don’t think taking them off the fridge constitutes as finding.” He motioned her out of the aisle as though only just realising where he stood. Diligently, Madison followed. “But fair point.”

“I want a brother if you get to pick.” All the names in Dad’s handwriting had been girls’. Madison had nothing against other girls as a rule, but having seen Aunt Sarah and her dad she’d like to have a brother of her own if she could. “However, I believe I was promised a _puppy_ first.”

“Which is going to be much easier when we close on the house, huh? Up top!”

She elected to ignore the patronizing way he lowered his arm and met his hand with her own in a rough smack. “I like the back yard.”

“You want a swing?” Josh asked, smiling, and she felt her own mouth widen to a grin. “I think we should get a swing.”

“I think we should go to the bakery,” she said. “I want a snack.”

* * *

It had been easy for Madison to decide which dog she wanted, scrolling through pictures on the internet. Breed, age, type of fur, everything sorted like a dress up doll. But at the shelter, where they let all of them out to play, she felt just as she had every time they visited the park; she wanted _all_ of them.

That was until she was tackled to the ground by a brown and black blur.

Dad pulled her out from underneath the dog, laughing and out of breath.

“Madison, are you okay?” He half-turned to Josh. “That thing has to be forty pounds I’m surprised she’s still talking.”

“Darryl, she _hasn’t_ said anything yet.” Josh said, sounding a little irritated.

The thing she chose to say was: “I want that one!”

“Are you sure? It’s a boy.” Darryl looked unsure. Madison knew this had to be difficult for him. On top of combating her own eagerness, he was being faced with what looked to be an overexcited cattle dog. “Don’t they have more problems, you know,” he leaned over to whisper to Josh, but Madison wasn’t sure if this was meant for her benefit or the dog’s. “Potty training?”

“Babe, I know you were set on a little girl for your little girl,” Josh seemed to be weighing his words and eventually spoke in what Madison would refer to as his _reasonable voice_ (which he would often default to when he wasn’t being _fond_ ). “If you want to know what I think, I like the idea of a boy.”

“Really?” Madison, seeing her dad relent by an inch, used the space to wedge a mile.

“Yes! Boy, boy, boy,” she chanted and, by the third word, had Josh joining her.

“All right, all right,” Dad waved them off with both hands. He was laughing at least, and to the dog he said, “You win.”

* * *

Josh fell down in the lawn chair next to Darryl’s. Hours of training, helping others improve their bodies, and he left the gym feeling fit as a fiddle. _Half_ an hour with Madison--doing whatever activity caught her attention from racing to jump rope to catch--and he was sore, out of breath, and in desperate need of hydration.

“I need a time out.” He pressed his fingers to him palm, the ‘T’ of forfeit, of _shame_.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get my bathing suit. Dad, can I use the sprinkler?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Darryl reached back to open the sliding door and she darted between them to get inside.

“How does she have so much energy?” Josh stared after her in wonder.

“What was that Madison said about a swing set?” Darryl raised a brow. “Did you promise her a swing set?”

“Uh,” Josh glanced skyward, stalling for time with a swig of his water. “Words _about_ a swing may have been exchanged. I remember nothing about promising.”

“Okay, Rule One, WhiJo,” Darryl laughed. “All words about presents, especially _big_ presents, are promises to a ten year old.”

“Eleven,” Josh corrected.

“Oh God, I keep forgetting.”

“You know I thought play time was what what the dog was for.”

“He's too little now. He gets tired, look at him.”

Josh did look at the rather large pile of sleeping puppy. “Lazy,” he smiled around another drink. “It'll be easier on all of us when she has a sibling to play with.”

It took a moment to register but Josh knew at once when he had because Darryl took it as an opportunity to nearly fall out of his chair. Josh reached over to catch him by the arm and Darryl straightened himself in silence. Josh knew the other man must be thinking words that couldn’t make their way to his mouth, as Darryl was never ‘at a loss’ for them. It may not be the right thing to say, or the thing he meant, but there was always _something_.

“Madison said she wants a brother,” Josh supplied helpfully. “If we get to pick.”

“She does?” Darryl’s brain finally gave his mouth a much-needed kick. “Wait you've been talking to Madison about this? Is she excited? Oh my gosh, are _you_ excited?”

Josh leaned over the arm of his chair, kissing the space below Darryl’s ear where he could see the beginnings of stubble starting to show.

“I’m not, _not_ excited.”


	5. home study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a lot for Greg to come back to West Covina, but Madison’s invitation had that childlike charm that his guilt couldn't say no to.  
> Besides, he missed his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interesting thing about writing from Greg's perspective is that Josh Wilson is almost always WhiJo.

The thick piece of cream paper sat on the top of Greg’s mail pile until the day after midterms. When he finally got around to flipping it over his eyes skipped straight to the date, and he opted for a phone call rather than the standard message fare.

White Josh picked up after two rings. “Yello’?”

“What the hell is this _mail_ nonsense?”

“Invitation, dude,” WhiJo said, after a beat. “Is Emory _de-_ educating you? Read the paper.”

“People evite now, WhiJo,” Greg sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Which you don’t respond to anyway, so we sprung for paper--”

“You’re _killing_ trees.”

“Chill out, Madison picked them. They’re cute.”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “congrats. Seriously, good for you, man.”

“Thanks,” Greg noticed all of the friends he kept had a way of smiling in their voice. WhiJo was no different (and, in point of fact, had whiter teeth--you could almost hear his smile _glisten_ ). “You coming?”

Greg thought about Rebecca and the disastrous wedding that sent Josh Chan running to God, according to Heather. The latest in a dramatic series of _Reasons West Covina Is Not Fine Without Greg Serrano But Why Greg Serrano Is Fine Without West Covina._ He thought of some of the happier times he had had with his friends. And kept thinking because you amass a lot knowing the same people for so long.

Then he thought about Rebecca again.

“I'll think about it,” he said finally.

And because it was WhiJo all he said in return was: “Cool deal, dude. How are classes?”

* * *

Greg looked across the room to his fridge, the invitation from WhiJo and two takeout menus (Mexican and Asian for variety) the only items decorating its shiny surface.

It's not that he didn't have work he could be doing. They were already picking up assignments and, sure, he was a few weeks ahead in some of his classes and, okay, he didn't have a shift at the diner until Monday evening...

He unlocked his phone.

“Hey Barry? Can you feed Bruno this weekend?”

* * *

The house Greg pulled up to was one of the recorded historicals he used to make fun of on Eldred. Then again, it was more difficult for Greg to recall something about West Covina he _hadn't_ made fun of so that didn't speak to the quality of the home. Walking up to the flat red porch, he reconsidered it.

No, he decided, awful. The tall white pillars reminded him of the plantation houses near Emory and he had no idea why anyone in California thought a yard with _real grass_ was a good idea.

Still, it wasn't a terrible fit for the couple, if a little big.

An overeager puppy greeted Greg at the door, followed by an equally eager young woman.

“Hello, I'm Maya!” She struggled to push the dog behind her. “Are you on the guest list?”

“There's a list?” Greg intended to laugh sharply but it came out soft and Maya only looked a little confused. He'd lost his edge. He wasn't sure if that was a bad thing.

“It's cool, Maya. Can you take Zoom outside?” WhiJo’s head appeared above hers. He maneuvered around her body to rest an arm around Greg's shoulder. “Hey man, glad you found the place okay.”

“Well at first I was afraid I'd forget the way back to town entirely but then I remembered places you try to avoid suck you back in like a vortex. Like forever changing road signs in a horror movie...,” he trailed off with a shudder.

“Whatever, you don't hate it _that_ much.” WhiJo closed the door behind him. “Though I'm flattered you could make it back for this and not Josh's disaster wedding.”

“Dude I don't even--” WhiJo cut him off with raised hands and an exasperated, if agreeable, expression. Greg grabbed a bottled water from the cooler in the front hall, unscrewing it with what was probably too much force for molded plastic. “Two weeks? Who did they think they were kidding _besides_ themselves?”

"I'm not a big fan of I told you so's--"

"Except that if you could get printed tee shirts you would."

"You can, I checked." WhiJo pulled out his phone and flicked quickly to a site. Too quickly, in Greg's estimation.

"Oh those are nice, what is that, rayon?"

"It's  _pima_ ," WhiJo shoved his phone back in his pocket. “As for the time bump, I spend a lot of lunches in their office and methinks it has something to do with that guy.” He tipped his head to the corner of the room. Greg had never met the man, about their age and overdressed for the occasion, but he recognized something that years of bartending had drilled into him.

“I smell daddy issues.”

...also, yes, a few emails from Heather about Rebecca's hot, new boss, Nathaniel Plimpton may have helped with that deduction.

“Sounds familiar,” WhiJo looked Greg up and down. Greg snorted but didn't disagree. “You look...better.”

“I feel better,” said Greg, tearing his attention from the other party goers. “I really like Emory. It's the...West Covina of the South.” He only managed to hold the grin for a few moments before faltering. “No, no that's a _terrible_ comparison.”

“Yeah that's pretty bad. I said you didn't hate this place that much. That doesn't mean you _like_ it.” WhiJo clapped him on the back too roughly and bred from years of familiarity. “...I missed you, man.”

Greg was able to hold the grin this time. “You too.”

Greg’s eye caught a blur of motion, lower in the throng of people bustling around the living room, winding towards them. Madison moved through the room like a cockroach--Greg secretly thought she'd appreciate the comparison--and Hector was close behind her.

“Madison, you're looking as lovely as ever.”

“I know,” she rocked back on her heels. “But thank you. Josh,” she said, and Greg wondered--if this was _the_ Josh to her--what she thought of Josh Chan. She pressed something into WhiJo’s hand. “Daddy wants you to open this.”

The _something_ was a small jar of capers that opened easily with a slight twist of WhiJo’s wrist. “I got it. Can you make sure my mom knows we have dairy free cheese on the second table?“

“Blasphemous,” Greg hissed under his breath.

“Roger!” Madison shot off a snappy salute and disappeared back through the living room.

“Capers?” Greg stared at the open container in WhiJo’s hand.

“Darryl’s passive aggressive way of asking for help in the kitchen.” Greg considered that WhiJo had always been better at reading people. “Catch up later.”

“Did you seriously wait in your car until Bunch left?” Hector asked, filling the spot where WhiJo had been.

“No,” Greg turned his phone around to display a row of pictures. “We still follow one another on Instagram. I made an _intuitive leap_.”

“Wow, so just all out avoidance with her _and_ Josh huh?”

“That's not true,” he scoffed. “Josh Skyped me from seminary. Black suits him.” Hector nodded in agreement and, before he could say anything to address Rebecca, particularly the fact that Greg had _not actually addressed her at all_ , Greg continued. “Anyway, this is WhiJo’s night. Neutral territory you know?”

“Fair enough.” Hector rooted around in the cooler near their feet, placing his hand around the stem of a bottle and, seeming to think better of it, removing it quickly to switch to water at the last second. “Did you know they're thinking about kids?”

“Well that's not terrifying.”


	6. model parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Noelle Akopian hadn't expected the Whitefeathers to be such a delightfully honest bunch. This may have had something to do with the patient who recommended them to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [alamorn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn) without whom this chapter would not have seen the light of day.

 “I just think that we just rushed into a lot of stuff--”

“ _You_ asked me to move in with you!”

“I said _we._ ” Josh held up his hands in a placating gesture. “And I'm not talking about the house.”

“Gentlemen,” Doctor Noelle Akopian looked between them. “Let’s try to stick to _I feel_ statements, please.”

It had only been two court-mandated sessions of this. One of which was spent in awkwardly sweet repetitions of the phrase, “What should we say?” and “We’re fine, really. We’re only doing this because it’ll keep us from filing an appeal against the agency.”

Then Darryl’s insecurities started to peek through and, more surprisingly to Noelle, Josh’s.

“Sure.” Josh nodded, settling back down.

“All right.” Darryl sucked in an overlarge breath. “I feel I can be... _a tad bit_ overzealous, yes, but we took things at a normal pace.”

“Mr. Wilson,” Akopian turned to him, “why do you feel the decisions over the past year have been rushed?”

“I was, sorry, _I feel_ ,” he corrected, “that buying a house together was fine. I just think I should have, you know, paced us better with the whole baby thing.”

* * *

_Six Months Ago_

“Serenity, Inc.?” Josh flipped the brochure over. “That place by Civic Center Park?”

“That’s the one!” Darryl snatched the paper back, tucking it to his chest. “They’ve been specialized since 2006, they offer both closed and open adoptions, _and_ this woman, Rosa? Brings the juice boxes for Madison’s intramural competitions.” He pointed to a woman in a small pink square at the bottom of the brochure. She was wearing far too much yellow, even for California, and stared up from the paper through thick, square glasses. “Not those cheap, paper ones either. The really nice, twist off juice boxes.”

“So?”

“So not only does she have excellent taste in juice, but we’ve got an _in_.” He smiled, and Josh looked to be fighting hard not to smile back. “I know it seems like a rush, but I was talking to Ryan from my Grooves class. He said it took him and his wife _four years_ to adopt! _Four_ , Josh.”

Josh did laugh then. “I guess I did give you...tacit permission. I’m, uh, glad you’re researching.” He gave a decisive nod. “It’s not like a kid’s going to fall into our laps.”

“Daddy!” Madison called down the stairs. “Josh! Come see what I taught Zoom!”

“Well,” he amended, “another one.”

“Hey, I worked hard for that kid.”

* * *

_Doctor Akopian’s Office_

“It did take forever for them to get back to us.” Darryl pointed out. “But we eventually got an email.”

“For the Home Study.” Noelle flipped through her notes. “That’s what you both keep saying this is about.”

“We set out coffee and a nice spread.”

“He’s good at that sort of thing.” Josh motioned to Darryl with a quick jerk of his head. Noelle chose not to ask.

“But it doesn’t matter how many sites you read,” Darryl rubbed the palms of his hands against his thighs, “or how nice the social worker is, it’s so nerve wracking!”

“Plus there was the incident with Sarah’s device.” Josh pulled a face, eyes searching the ceiling for nothing in particular.

“Oh, God, don’t get me started!”

“You can start a little,” Noelle said with a note of encouragement.

“His sister is a paranormal investigator. She leaves gadgets around the house and usually only tells Madison they’re there.” Josh answered for both of them. “When the social worker found one...well, Madison is an honest kid.”

“I see.” They had touched on Sarah Whitefeather, briefly, before. She was, after all, mentioned extensively in the social worker’s more private notes.

In her own notes Noelle wrote, _Sister is weird...but no threat to potential child._

“And then you received your results. Let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about what got us,” she motioned around her, “here.”

* * *

_Six Months Ago_

“And...99.3,” Darryl tapped the thermometer against his palm. “That sets it, you’re staying home.”

“Yes!” Madison fell back on her pillows. Her elation quickly gave way to exhaustion, however, and she was soon burrowing back under the covers.

“Aw, you have a cold, too?” Josh leaned against Madison’s door frame, and Darryl knew something was wrong at once. A Josh not in his jogging clothes by 6 A.M. was not the Josh that Darryl had moved in with. Yet there the man stood, still in his pajamas.

“You’re sick?”

“99. _5_ ,” he stepped up next to the bed, tugging at Madison’s braid. “Beat you.”

“ _Beat you_ …” Madison opened one eye to grunt out.

“I'll stay home with her.” Josh elbowed Darryl on the way out of her room.

“Really?”

“Of course. Besides, it’s company policy for anyone running a fever. We come into contact with more people.” Josh placed a hand on the side of Darryl's neck. “Trust me, we'll be okay on our own.”

“I do trust you,” Darryl lowered his voice. “I guess I’m just used to being the one who takes care of her when she’s sick.”

Josh pressed his lips together, expression settling into familiar, fond exasperation. “Well I promise to try and do everything you would do--”

“Great, so usually I start by making finger jello. You just take the packets of gelatin and--”

Josh grabbed Darryl’s tie and a bit of his shirt by the handful, pulling him in and snatching a messy, open mouthed kiss. “I got it, D.”

“Now _I'm_ going to be sick,” Darryl said when Josh released him.

“You know, I was with you all night.” Josh lifted an eyebrow.

“I remember.” Darryl raised his own, but faltered quickly with a snort. “Ah, what the heck.”

He leaned into the other man's space, taking Josh’s face in both hands and kissing him again. The other man was fever warm, but he smiled into the action as he most always did.

“Okay, okay I have to go.” Darryl forced himself to pull away. “Call me if you need _anything_.”

Josh, still smiling, held up two thumbs and Darryl wondered how high his fever had spiked.

 _Better than all three of us_ , he thought.

* * *

By lunch Darryl was on his fifth round of combo sneezes. He could feel his eyes droop in what he knew to be the beginnings of a cold.

It wasn't the best time to receive a rejection letter from anyone, let alone a prospective adoption agency but...people didn't tend to consult him on how he _felt_ when they sent messages like:

_It is the duty of the agency to determine that the family we have approved is able to provide a healthy and stable environment for the child. It is also the duty of the agency to ensure that a family has the extraordinary skills that are necessary in parenting a child from foster care so as to avoid another disruption in the life of a child who has already experienced trauma/abuse/neglect and/or multiple placements. It is the opinion of this agency that you do not meet these qualifications. Chiefly we are concerned about your ability to respond to the behaviors of a child from foster care and ability to understand the child’s needs and trauma history within the confines of what our social worker has deemed to be an unstable environment._

_You may access our social worker’s full report at the link provided below. If you have any questions--_

“Darryl, buddy, you need to go home or I'm officially quarantining you to your office,” Paula said from the door. She took in his slumped posture and stepped fully inside. “Oh, this isn't sick Darryl. This is sad Darryl. Everything okay?"

"This is sick _and_ sad Darryl.” He motioned to his screen and Paula carefully moved around the desk to read over his shoulder.

He rolled away from the desk, giving Paula more room. “I have to call Josh--”

“To tell him it’s _bullshit,_ I hope!” Paula pulled her face away from the screen. “You two would be perfect parents. I mean, look at Madison! You think Stacy's influencing her in any positive way?”

It was difficult to level a harsh look in her direction when Darryl was halfway to flattered, but he must have managed _something_ because Paula rolled her eyes.

“Have you read the report yet?”

“I’ll read it later.” He shook his head, the word _unstable_ more like a siren than a taunt in his head. “You know, we knew what our chances were going in. Were not married and I’m so recently divorced. Madison’s a good character witness...but on paper it doesn't look great.”

He forced himself not to jerk when Paula’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Call Josh,” she smiled down at him.

He waited until she was sitting at her desk before picking up his phone. There was what could only be described as a _ruckus_ on the other end of the line.

"Hey, babe, hold on a second,” Josh said, obviously placing the phone against his shoulder and turning whatever was making the noise off. “You're sick, Maddie. You can't swing if you're sick.”

_I don't feel sick anymore. Besides you did your workout!_

“Okay, so at your size, when your internal temperature is already as high as yours, the chances of any sort of strenuous activity on your body can make you--”

_Ugh, nevermind. I'm going to play experiments with that old tomato you found at the back of the veggie drawer._

“Gross. Go nuts.” Josh's voice grew louder, no longer muffled. “Sorry, hi.”

“Well, I'm glad she's feeling better,” Darryl said, and realised with a sudden clarity that _he_ felt better himself. His shoulders were relaxed, his jaw unclenched. Paula had been right; he had heard all the proof he needed of that when these two people answered the phone. Proof enough that something like _instability_ wasn't an issue in any case.

“Yeah, she's mostly been napping. What's up?”

Darryl opened his mouth, staring at the email on the screen. He turned away. “Nothing, just wanted to check in. Hear your voice.”

“That's sweet.” He could hear the little puff of laughter on the other end of the line. “You sure you okay? You sound a little...eh.”

“I think I'm getting what you two have. My just desserts for this morning’s greed.”

“Sure that's it.” Josh snorted. “Tell you what. I’m making those finger jello things. You want red or blue?”

“Oh, blue please!”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

_Doctor Akopian’s Office_

“Mr. Whitefeather, you seemed to agree at the time,” Noelle skimmed through the Home Study Results, “with the results of the Home Study and, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say, your partner’s assessment of how hasty the two of you were.”

“I _agreed_ that, on paper, we don’t look like the model family. But I never thought we couldn’t provide a loving home.”

“Or a stable one?” Noelle raised a brow and watched Darryl falter under her gaze. “Do you think some of your...eagerness might have to do with your ex-wife?”

“Stacy? What does Stacy have to do with this?” And, to his credit, the man looked genuinely confused. Most of them did, Noelle thought.

“She cheated on you, dude,” Josh laid a reassuring hand on Darryl’s knee. This hadn’t been what Noelle was going to say--the divorce was a large, red mark on their file and she was going to start slow with that, tread carefully--but strangely enough the five year affair and all of its associated baggage was _exactly_ what she had been building to. She was developing a theory that Josh was very good at cutting to the heart of the matter.

“Oh.” Darryl’s eyebrows drew together then fell down in one quick motion. “ _Oh_.”

“It’s not necessarily reasonable or fair, but I’ve often found divorcees readjust their timelines at an alarming rate. Replacing the old with the new to account for as little change in their life as possible; house, marriage, kids, all the things they had before.” She judged the looks on their faces and didn’t add that tying someone to them, this way, was a seemingly lower risk of being cheated on again.

“At first,” Darryl said slowly. “I felt like I _was_ just pushing for kids because it's some kind of...commitment. But I know, more than anyone how much that doesn't work.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Josh said, “You just get excitable and leave some of the planning for later, that's all.” To Noelle he shrugged. “That’s just him.”

Darryl seemed to cheer at that.

Noelle smiled. “You _both_ decided to pursue an appeal before the agency contacted you. Mr. Wilson, how did you take the news, the _rejection_ , initially?”

* * *

_Six Months Ago_

“Nah.” Josh shook his head. “Nope. Who do we call?”

“Well there are a few people but I didn't know…”

Darryl didn't say, _If you would want to,_ but it was a near thing.

He settled on: “Where you'd want to start.”

“From the bottom and work our way up, I guess.” Josh lifted his arms, resting his hands behind his head. It seemed a pose, to Darryl, more suited for victory but perhaps this was Josh preparing for battle. “You've got an entire team of lawyers at your disposal, babe. Let's go for it.”

Darryl mimicked the pose, earning him a small smile. “Yeah.”

* * *

“Darryl! Paula's just caught me up and we are going to _fight this_ do you hear--oh, hello, Nathaniel.” She looked up from the draft of her appeal (some of her best work, though Paula had lent a large brushstroke to the page). “Where's Darryl? Why are you in his office?”

“Less disruptions, I had _hoped_.” He gave her a significant look. “Though it's nice to see you using your work time for actual work, I wish you would do it for a case that pays.”

“No need. I faxed _this_ to the head of Serenity Inc.” She slapped the papers down in front of him. “They've agreed to put them on the placement list, so long as they attend four sessions of couples therapy to assess their communication and problem solving skills.

Nathaniel failed to hide his shock. “Did you even speak with Darryl and Josh?”

“It's _fine_ , Nate! Just buds helpin’ buds!” Rebecca’s giggle, when high-pitched and resembling the staccato of a chipmunk, meant that all was _not_ fine, and thusly Nathaniel watched her _very_ carefully. “Oh don't be so... _you_ for a second, this is great news! We should be celebrating!”

Nathaniel fought hard not to roll his eyes. He turned them down, instead, flipping idly through the sheets of paper while Rebecca wandered back into the office.

“The appeal was thorough,” Nathaniel said, giving the papers back near the end of the day.

“Come on, like you never researched adoption law as a kid.”

“Touche.” He conceded the point with a nod. “Now we just need to find a certified therapist in West Covina. That's work in itself.”

“Lucky for you, I know just the lady.”

* * *

_Doctor Akopian’s Office_

“So, at the time, Mr. Wilson, you were very determined to pursue this line of action.” Noelle closed the folder of notes resting on the chair of her arm. “Which brings us to these sessions.” As if slapped upon the back at the same instant, both men sat straighter on the couch. “How do you feel about today's, compared to last week’s?”

“I feel like we're here for something.” Darryl tried with a wince.

“Yeah, not that I’m over-enjoying this,” Josh said. “But if every session was like last week I might have stooped low enough to buying some of those wireless earbuds.”

“I appreciate both of your cooperation.” She chuckled. "Is there anything you'd like to think about for next week's session?”

Josh pressed his lips together, then faced Noelle with a look of consternation. “I want to talk about the ex.” The soft look Darryl had been giving him shifted from confusion to disappointment, and Josh patted his knee in obvious apology. “She's Madison’s mom, there's gonna be this weird...family mixing. Birthday parties and stuff we probably haven't even thought of.” He coughed, and if Noelle were a betting woman she'd put money on the fight Josh was having with himself to get out his next words. “Besides, divorce? Cheating? That's heavy stuff. We've talked about it but...I don't know, maybe you want to talk about it with her?”

“You have a point.” Darryl sighed. His tone strayed to the apologetic and she noticed his hand move to Josh's knee, much as Josh had done for him. _These two._ “I had no idea you thought about any of that.”

“I told you, you weren't the only one with insecurities.” Noelle coughed and Josh side-eyed her warily. “But obviously I should have told you how I felt sooner.”

“I think that's something for our next two sessions, gentlemen.” She crossed her hands over her lap, relaxing in her chair. “But from what I've seen, so far, the two of you exceed expectations for open communication and possess excellent conflict resolution tools.”

“Sweet.” Josh elbowed Darryl playfully and, where Darryl’s hand still rested on Josh's knee, he gave a light squeeze.

* * *

_Six Weeks Later_

“You're all done, Mr. Whitefeather.” Kate, the receptionist of Serenity Inc. handed him a stack of copied files nearly the height of his forearm. He moved a pack of gummi worms in his briefcase to make room for it, and still needed to do a little finagling. "I would say we’ll call with any new developments, but I think Mr. Wilson’s really taken a shine to our volunteer program these past few weekends so we may be in touch sooner than you think.”

He knew her wink was meant to be placating, reassuring maybe, but Darryl still couldn't help asking, “How long do placements normally take here?”

“It depends. But ballpark, anywhere from a year to seven years.” She leaned over the desk to tap his chest. “Keep that room and that heart open, Mister! I'll buzz you back.”

Darryl tried to muster a smile but, judging by her own, it must have fallen flat. He wandered the halls until he found Josh in one of the classrooms. There were several other adults milling around. He looked at nameplate outside the door that displayed the age group;  _3-4._

“Surprised you're not outside with the older ones.”

“I got roped in by Bradshaw.” Josh grinned up at him from where he was organizing mats into a tall pile. “Paperwork all done?”

“For now,” Darryl sighed. “Josh I know I'm prone to rushing but...seven years?” He opened the briefcase to idly thumb at the papers. "That's three more than four.”

“Why don't we widen our bracket? Try adopting one of the kids?”

“What?” Darryl looked up so quickly he knew it would cost his neck tomorrow, but Josh was standing, wiping off his knees seemingly without a care.

“Just a thought I had.”

“No, no not a bad thought!” Darryl hurried to say.

Josh chuckled. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”

To Darryl’s surprise, he was led to the corner of the room where a group of several children were drawing around a table. He had been expecting the play group on the large mat or the indoor play set if he were being honest.

“Hey Jack, my man,” Josh said to a head of black hair hunched over a sheet of paper. “What ya working on today?”

The boy looked up briefly, made a face and went back to protecting his art as though one of the others in the room might steal it.

Josh smiled back at Darryl like they were sharing a joke Darryl hadn't quite caught up with yet. “That's cool. Hey this is Darryl. Can I show him what you drew yesterday?”

The eyes flitted up between the two of them and, just for a second, Darryl caught the smallest smile.

“I'm gonna show him, okay?”

Darryl followed Josh to the wall of portraits, pointing out all of Jack’s leading up to yesterday. He was quite good for three, which meant he wasn't good at all, but he got the shapes in the right places and the colors were (mostly) correct. The picture yesterday was of a snail.

“We can't take it home but,” Josh nodded towards the picture, “he wanted me to know that he drew that for Madison.”

"Wow…”

* * *

_Six Months Later_

“Madison, how are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just okay?”

“I got a C in math.”

Noelle smiled. “Do you know why they’ve brought your family in to speak with me?”

Madison cast her eyes about the room nervously. “About Jack?”

“Yes, about Jack.” Noelle motioned towards the girl. “It’s a big change. Are you having any feelings about that?”

“Well, it was my idea.”

Noelle felt her eyebrows lift. “Was it?”

“Sure.” Madison brought her feet up to cross her legs, obviously more comfortable now that she knew she wasn’t getting into trouble. “I asked for a brother and now I’m getting a brother.”

“I see…”

“Daddy and Josh might make me dinner and walk me to school,” Madison said, and Noelle would describe the expression she wore as _put-upon_ If it weren’t sitting on the face of a twelve year old girl. “But, let’s face it, without me none of the important stuff would _ever_ get done in that house.”

Noelle opened her notes and, in the margins of Madison’s file, wrote: _Overall, I have to say well-adjusted…mostly because I don’t think Madison will give me any choice in the matter._

“So, which part of math is giving you trouble?”

Madison groaned.


	7. from mouth to ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh Chan had been learning a lot of Latin lately. There was a phrase, _Ab ore ad aurem_ , which White Josh now knew meant ‘to whisper a secret in someone's ear’. Knowing how to say it in a different language didn't make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very small chapter but one I'd been dying to write since I started down this rabbit hole.

Josh didn’t intend to run into Stacy at the pitch outside of Home Base because...Josh never intended to run into Darryl’s ex-wife anywhere, ever, in his life. Outside of drop offs and pick ups, there were the Little League games, and parties, and that one, strange run in at the principal’s office when Madison decided to overlook what limited protection from occupational hazards existed in seventh grade P.E. They lived in what Josh considered largely to be an amicable co-orbit around the planet that was Madison Whitefeather.

Or so he thought.

Stacy held her cigarette towards him. “Do you smoke?”

“No,” he said and knew immediately his tone held a little too much bite.

“Sorry just trying to be polite.”

He let out a bark of laughter “My bad,” he gave a full-body shrug. “Fitness trainer. I’m holding back a lot that I really want to say.”

“I get it. Smoking kills.” She stubbed out the stick. “Just out here for fresh air?”

“My friend,” he motioned over his shoulder, “Josh Chan? Got accepted into the S.T.B programme.” Stacy’s brows drew together slowly and he corrected, “Bachelor of Sacred Theology.”

“Oh, well, congratulations to him.” She blinked. “And to you and Darryl. For the adoption, of course.”

“Yeah, we got your card.” Josh paused, halfway to the door where he had obviously been planning his escape. “Thanks.”

“Oh, I never got a thank you letter so I wasn’t sure.”

“Do people still do those?”

“Thank you letters?” This time Stacy’s tone was less than cordial, and Josh was a little grateful he hadn’t kept so tight a grip on his own earlier. “Yes people still do that. Darryl did that.”

“Well, he doesn’t now,” Josh shrugged. “So, maybe that was a you thing.”

 _Well,_ Josh thought, slowly starting his retreat once more. _That got unintentionally catty._

“ _Anyway_ , I’d better get back--”

“Joshua, we should be able to speak with one another like adults.” She stared at the place where her dead cigarette lay on the rail. “For Madison’s sake. I know my marriage wasn’t ideal and Darryl and I put each other through a lot--”

“All right, first please, _please_ ,” Josh found himself tracking back to her side with his hands raised. “Call me Josh. And I am...fine speaking to you, honestly. I don’t think we have a lot to talk about, but it’s fine.” He took a deep breath. “But if you want to clear the air, I don’t dislike you because of whatever went on with you and Darryl.”

“Really?” She smiled and, to his horror, it looked a little watery.

“Totally,” he grinned back. “That’s you guys, that’s your stuff. No, Stacy, _I_ don’t like you because you told Madison not to get used to me. You know, since I was going to leave Darryl, anyway.”

“What?” The smile dropped from Stacy’s face only to replaced by her own horrified look. “I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

“Well you did.” Josh crossed his arms. “You said it so often that she got mad enough to tell me. Don’t worry I didn’t say anything to Darryl.”

“I’m sorry,” and now she really _was_ dew-eyed. “I don’t feel that way anymore, obviously.”

“I’m just so pleased about that.” He laughed. “Don’t you get it? _I don’t care,_ it wasn’t your business in the first place. Just...keep those thoughts to yourself from now on, okay? Especially around Madison.”

She went quiet, playing with her cuticles. “You know, I was probably,” she wiped at her eyes, “I was probably jealous. I missed that...family unit. I miss babies. Best job in the world but they still wake you up at six.”

Josh got up every morning at five for his run, but this didn’t seem like the sort of fact to bring up at the moment.

“And sometimes I miss Darryl. He was sweet.” Stacy shrugged. “You two seem happy. I remember being like that with him. Then I remember, well, everything else.” She chuckled humorlessly. “There was a lot of everything else.”

Josh heard a cheer from inside and turned slightly.

“Sorry, you should go.” She nodded towards the door. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you Friday.”

“Right.” Josh almost made it inside, stopping only when his fingers were wrapped around the handle. He was, after all, the one who had pushed for a more successful family blending. “Hey,” he lifted his hand and settled it in his pocket. “I know Christmas plans are pretty set but we’re throwing a little get together the weekend before. If you're free, I know Madison would love to have you there. Sarah’s supposed to be bringing some kind of ham.”

She snorted, managing a small smile. “Thanks but no thanks. One of the things I don't miss is Sarah’s, well, everything.”

“She’s one heck of a party,” he said. “But I gotcha.”

“Hey Josh, the ham is her infamous Jalisco Ham. It's just questionable meat soaked in tequila for two weeks. Don't let Madison or Jack have any.”

“...noted.”


	8. connect, refresh, heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darryl and Josh go back to Electric Mesa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/pseuds/alamorn) for providing me with the perfect expression, ‘turtled in shock’, in response to the definition: SLIGHTLY shook his head and blinked so he had double chins temporarily, you know that face you sometimes get when you're flabbergasted?

Darryl walked into the kitchen and slid his phone across the table, looking almost forlorn. “Sarah’s out for next weekend. Some conference in _Ohio,"_ he scoffed.

It was difficult to pull off ‘indignant’ with a mouth full of sandwich, but Josh pulled it off. “What?!”

Hector mouthed a quieter, _What…?_ into the top of Jack’s curly hair.

“Electric Mesa.” Madison hopped up on the stool next to Hector, reaching out to grab a chip from Josh's plate.

“We can't miss the Mesa,” Darryl groaned. “Sherpa Allen says there's going to be a costume contest this year, how _cool_ is that?”

“Yeah, Dad, cool.” Madison smiled around a mouthful of chips.

“Costumes are cool.” Jack repeated dutifully, though he sounded far more enthusiastic.

"Thank you, Jack," said Darryl, giving Madison a pointed look that she ignored entirely.

“And Carl demanded baby pictures,” said Josh.

Darryl slapped his forehead. “Oh that's right, Carl!”

“It's cool, guys.” Madison grabbed Hector’s sleeve, and Hector’s eyes went wide as he tried to keep a tight hold on the little boy attempting to climb his shoulder. “Jack an' me can sleep over at Hector’s mom’s.”

“You can?” Hector shifted his eyes to stare at her.

“You and your mom have watched Madison a lot,” Josh lifted a shoulder. “Like more than _my_ parents.”

“I'm learning Spanish from daytime television!” Madison gave him a thumbs up and Hector struggled to return the gesture under Jack’s wobbly knees.

“And you haven't dropped Jack yet,” Darryl said slowly, likely thinking of ‘the Maya Incident’. “In fact you actually hold him _correctly_ when he lets you.”

“Which gives you a plus one on...most of our friends, wow that's sad.” Josh wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked around his stool to Hector’s shoulder, addressing the toddler. “You're four, you do most of the work. This should not be a difficult concept for people.”

“There's not a ton of rules on how to hold a child,” Darryl chimed in, “and yet--”

“All right, all right.” Hector finally wrangled Jack back to a sitting position. “You flattered me into it. Go have a good time.”

Josh wrapped an arm around his neck in an awkward approximation of a hug. “Thanks, man!”

He released Hector, moving to the side and using both hands to lift Jack until both bare feet were planted on the shiny wood countertop.

“You and your sister are going to go stay with Uncle Hector.” Josh let him bounce a few times. “Does that sound fun?”

“No!” Jack smiled despite his bold negative. “We’re going to the park with Zoom!”

“Well, how about we go to the park today, huh?”

"Um," Jack tilted his head towards the ceiling then brought it back with a snap. "This weekend _and_ the weekend after the day after now? Let's go then."

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd say that." Josh’s smile was static, but they had all learned showing weakness in the face of Jack’s request would lead to compliance in all manner of crazy plans a four year old could concoct.

Darryl stretched out to run his fingers through Jack's curls, and the boy reached for his hand absentmindedly, forgetting about it as soon as it disappeared. “Let’s just be happy he enjoys the outdoors.”

Madison hugged her brother around the middle, pulling him down to cover most of her, and spinning a bit on the stool from the force alone. “Say yay, Jammie! Midnight snacks!”

This was sufficiently distracting to the child, and he squealed in delighted amusement.

Josh shot Hector a look.

“Dude, you know my mom’s late night cravings! What are we supposed to do? _Not_ help her finish a whole cheesecake?”

* * *

Josh's leg twitched. He stared at his knee.

“Weird.”

Darryl glanced away from the steering wheel for only a second, concern writ on his features. “What?”

“Nothing.” Josh pulled out his phone and flicked through a series of texts to Hector. “Did you remind Hector about Zoom’s flea medication?”

Darryl’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes.”

“Did we give him Jack’s storybooks?”

Darryl turned his head when they pulled up to a red light. “Okay, what's wrong?”

“I feel like we forgot something.”

Josh was caught on the end of a confused stare for a long moment until the lines on Darryl’s face were moved, making space for a knowing grin. “Oh, I know what this is about. Can’t believe I didn’t see it while we were packing, you're displaying all the classic symptoms.”

“I will love to explore...whatever this weird narrative is that you're setting up for us, babe, but in ten minutes we are going to be in _deadlock_ traffic so,” Josh took a deep breath through his nose, staring at his leg again. “ _Did_ we forget something?”

“Joshua,” Darryl rolled his eyes, smiling, “I am enjoying, for once, being on the other side of a needy panic. Let me have this.”

Josh stared and, whatever was in his eyes must have been sufficiently _convincing_.

“We ‘forgot’ _the kids_ ,” Darryl had some difficulty with the air quotes while driving, but he managed. “Happened to me every time I left Madison. Happens in reverse when they start going to school.” He shook his head. “The first time I had to go to work was miserable.”

“That’s it, dude. I can't go.” Josh examined a pock mark on the ceiling of the car. “Turn around, turn the car around--”

“Josh, Josh, _Josh_!” Darryl said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m making it worse.”

“Look at the road please!” Josh pressed his fingers against the side of Darryl’s jaw, forcing him to stare straight ahead. “It’s fine. I’ve just never felt this…”

“Insecure? Boy that takes me back.”

“I was going to say guilty,” Josh said. “I can't show Carl pictures of Jack when I know I’ve abandoned him.”

“We did not _abandon_ him.” Darryl laughed. “Look if you weren't beating yourself up a little, I’d be worried. And good news,” he motioned to the line of cars in front of him, “we've got at least three hours to talk it out.”

* * *

At the end of three hours, they chose to at least spend the night, and while Josh was seemingly committed to the idea when they reached the exit sign, Darryl found him finishing up the tent with somewhat less enthusiasm this year.

“Where have you been?” Josh stood up and, upon taking in what Darryl was wearing, he turtled in shock, blinking so hard he could feel the dust behind his eyelids. “And what’s with the Magnum getup?”

“I told you, _costume contest_ ,” Darryl rolled his eyes, pulling out the red, Hawaiian shirt and gazing down to examine it. “Why? No good?”

“No, it’s awesome,” said Josh, as his mind supplied the alternatives _ridiculously charming_ and _embarrassingly attractive_.

“I had to leave Allen to finish the sign ups because I _remembered something_!” He pulled out his phone. “I’m surprised it took me this long…,” he trailed off, looking down and punching a few things in.

“Babe, no phones, this is a--”

“Tech-free experience, I know!” Darryl waved him off, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and brandishing his phone screen in front of them. “It’s for a good cause I promise.”

Josh gave in with a shrug. It was probably another video of animal friends or those cool desserts that melted when you poured chocolate over them, and Josh wasn’t going to say _no_ to watching one of those. He was at the Mesa not on sabbatical.

“So whenever Stacy and I used to go on vacation without Madison, I would leave a letter every day for her to open,” said Darryl, motioning to the phone. Josh finally took in the screen; what he thought had been a wash of white was the empty body of an email. “I know it’s a little bit of work on Hector’s end, but since we can’t go back in time and write _actual_ letters, I figured we could just type up a few messages for him to print out. One for every morning. I saw this really cute idea, telling them how things are here--not too much detail, obviously--and asking how the park is there--”

Josh caught Darryl’s lips in the middle of his sentence, his words devolving into surprised laughter that rumbled against the sides of Josh’s mouth. Darryl pulled away, his hands finding their way to Josh’s hair where he deliberately pushed the strands out of their careful hairstyle.

"So," Darryl's lips twitched up, eyes crinkling at the corners in quiet amusement. "Good idea?" 

"Great idea." Josh kissed him again and felt the other man's mouth curve into a broader smile. It was still there when they broke apart.

“Glad you stayed?”

“I’m glad you brought the costume.” Josh grabbed his wrist, suddenly thankful he had decided to finish setting up the tent, bad mood or no. “Come on, we’ll write the emails later.”


	9. peer pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was tough work being friends with a wedding planner and not, as a rule, wanting to be married.

Josh flushed the toilet and stood back, smiling when the tank filled without issue. “And that should do it.”

“Thanks, WhiJo,” said Valencia from the door. She made her way back to the boutique’s main room, pulling two boxed waters out of the mini-fridge and setting them on the counter.

Josh turned the sink on with his elbows and ran his hands under the stream before following her. “What happened to it?”

“One of my brides tried to flush her veil down the toilet. It happens.” She shrugged, opening her drink and sliding the other to Josh. “I still don't understand why you don't want to get married.” She arched a perfectly manicured brow and, even after all this time, Josh found himself standing a little straighter.

“Cleaning Ms. Toilet Veil’s mess isn’t exactly making a strong argument for your case, you know?” He leaned against the counter, spinning the box of water in front of him.

“Oh, that was a fluke. I have, like, a 96 percent success rate.”

“Valencia, I let you plan Jack's welcome home party. I'm not getting married just so you can throw me one too.”

“Give me one good reason--”

“We both have benefits through work, we didn’t need to be married to buy a house or have kids, and I don’t need a legally binding document to tell me I’m with someone.” Josh ticked off his fingers. He had given this speech often enough by now, though this was an amended version for time. “I have more, if you’d like?”

Valencia stared at him through narrowed eyes, and Josh had to wonder, if this was the sort of stare that led to crying brides and flushed veils, how he wasn’t called in more often. The woman was a tyrant. Finally, she crossed her arms. “Fine. Those _are_ a lot of reasons.”

“Tell you what, I’ll let you throw Jack's next birthday party. How's that?"

“Good god, WhiJo, I’m a wedding planner.” She threw her hands in the air. “Stop volunteering me for children’s events.”

“Aw, you love it.” He moved towards the door of the boutique. Valencia had already turned her back to him, seemingly busy flipping through a magazine and barely registering his exit.

“I wonder what he’d think about a Lego cake. Kids _like_ Legos! Jack likes Legos, right? WhiJo? Wilson?”

* * *

“Why aren't you and Daddy married?”

Josh reconsidered the usual brusqueness of his speech while Jack stared at him over his bowl of Cheerios. “Well, some people who love each other very much get married and....some people don’t.”

When spoken aloud it sounded lame, but Jack seemed mollified, going back to his food with a shrug. “Okay.”

“Did someone say something to you?” Josh asked, after a moment of contemplation.

“About what?”

Josh took a Cheerio from the top of a small pile Jack had made in his bowl, chewing on it to keep from sighing. His son was five now, which meant questions with a logical end, though not necessarily a logical line of questioning.

“Do _you_ want us to get married?”

Jack giggled. “I don’t want to marry you!”

Josh reached across the table to tickle his neck, and Jack’s laughter doubled in volume. “Who do you want to marry, huh?”

“I want to marry Ms. Van Dyke.”

“The librarian?” Josh asked, pulling away to let Jack finish eating. ”I’m pretty sure she’s already married, buddy.”

“That’s okay. Maybe she won’t be one day and then I can marry her then, right, Dad?” Jack continued eating as though they were talking about dinner that night and not his favorite faculty member’s future. To Jack, though, it seemed these topics merited the same level of attention. “Madison says that can happen sometimes.” He looked up, his lips turned down in distaste and his spoon full and dripping over the table. “Is Stacy my mommy?”

“What?” Josh choked out. “No! No, Stacy is _not_ your mom. That’s...we’ll talk about that when Darryl gets home,” he trailed off in a mutter, pushing Jack’s spoon towards his mouth. “Pay attention to your spoon, you’re spilling.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, finishing his bite with a properly chastised expression.

“Do you want me to marry your daddy?” Josh asked again, making sure to clarify this time.

Jack shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to?”

“You’re not really _supposed_ to do anything you don’t want to do,” Josh said without thinking, and knew immediately that he was going to pay for his choice of words dearly in the weeks to come.

“I don’t want to finish my cereal.”

Starting now.

* * *

“Do you think they’ll let me in the back to see Maya in her dress? I know it’s only the partners who aren’t supposed to see the brides but maybe her family is very superstitious.”

“You’ve already seen her in it,” Josh pointed out.

“I know, it’s just so exciting! She’s going to be all made up and her hair’s going to be done. Oh…” Josh chuckled, letting Darryl enjoy whatever fantastical avenue his mind had wandered down.

He gave the ends of his tie a minute adjustment before crossing them. “You’re okay right? That we never did this?”

Darryl swatted his hands away from the fabric, taking over the task. “Wow, loaded question five minutes before we’re supposed to leave.”

Josh stared at his tie as it came together beautifully under Darryl’s fingers. “Yeah, so was ‘we should have a baby’ right before what we thought was going to be our friend’s wedding, babe.”

“Fair,” said Darryl, looking a little embarrassed. “I will point that was was four years ago. I like to think I’ve grown.”

Josh’s eyebrows shot up.

“Okay, so it took me a while but I'm fine with it _now_ ,” Darryl rolled his eyes, patting Josh’s chest and turning away to finish his own tie. “Are you?"

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , you tense up whenever someone mentions marriage or wedding when we’re in the same room. You have a prepared speech,” Darryl chuckled. “It’s true, if you asked me yesterday, or tomorrow, or ten years from now to marry you I’d say yes in a heartbeat, you know I would. But that’s me. I know how you feel, Josh. I just wish you believed that I respect it.”

Josh hummed thoughtfully. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Yeah?” Darryl looked over his shoulder, lips pulled down in slight surprise.

“Yeah.” Josh kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Well,” said Darryl, seemingly offhand. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, just because other people think you’re supposed to.”

Josh rubbed his hands over his face. “I am _so_ sorry. Again.”

“Jack has added bedtimes and going too low on the swings to his list of ‘things he’s not supposed to do’ now, in case you’re wondering.”

Josh sighed. “Outstanding.”


	10. the high school bunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Whitefeathers go to high school eight years apart.

When Hector arrived, Cup of boba was near deserted save for a pair of students and a maudlin-looking couple who were slowly working their way through colorful drinks that didn’t seem to suit the set of their shoulders. Hector took his drink and followed the path to their table.

Darryl looked up in faint surprise and WhiJo straightened, moving his drink closer towards him to make room for Hector.

“What are you two doing out?” he ribbed lightly. “Playing hooky for some--”

“Seriously, dude?” Josh cut him off. “We don't need to cut work to do that.”

Hector grinned broadly at Darryl who broke free of whatever glumness was plaguing him to give a wistful little smile. “Whenever Nathaniel takes it into his head to yell at any one of us in my old office, there's something very satisfying in the knowledge that I’ve made sweet love on the desk.”

“Aw,” Hector cooed. “Gross, you guys. So what are you really doing?”

“Took the day off for back to school shopping.” Darryl placed a bag on the table. “It’s almost time.”

Hector lifted a brow in Josh’s direction and he mouthed, _High school_.

“Oh, high school!” Hector drew the words out with a whistle, ignoring the look Josh shot him. “The good ol’ days. Madison must feel pretty grown up!”

“ _Grown up...,_ ” Darryl trailed off, lips turned down in a frown that made his moustache look seriously threatening to his bottom lip, in Hector’s opinion. Josh reached out to pat the man’s back.

“We thought we’d better start the shopping early,” he explained, motioning to Darryl. “Get some of this out of the way.”

“Ah,” Hector nodded, raising his plastic cup and shooting Darryl a sympathetic smile. Darryl tapped his own against Hector’s and bent his head over the straw, face disappearing completely. “She nervous?”

“Are you kidding?” Josh scoffed. “It’s _Madison_.”

* * *

Madison, despite all logical reason, was nervous.

She felt herself relax at the sight of a dark arm winding through her own. “Are you pumped or are you _super_ pumped?”

“Jack’s starting elementary school next week so this is kind of small fries,” Madison lied easily.

“Your dad must be losing his mind.” Roxanne’s eyebrows did a hilarious dance above her eyes.

“He legit has not stopped crying.” Madison fought a grin.

“That bad?”

“Remember when Aunt Sarah had to take me shopping for a training bra?” Madison took a sharp breath. "Worse than _that_."

“My homerun girls!” The third of their trifecta swanned up beside them, stuffing the jacket of her uniform into her bag as she walked. “Did I hear bra?”

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “You’re only asking so you’ll get us to ask about _your_ bra and I’m not interested in your stupid bra, Josie. I’m not interested in anyone’s bra, they _all suck_.”

“God, they’re so fucking uncomfortable.” Josephine adjusted her shirt in a way Madison was all too familiar with by now.

“Can you be quieter?” Roxanne hissed. “You know, Gardner is going to beat the shit out of you if he hears you’re wearing a bra on your _first day_.”

“I don’t care,” Josie draped an arm over both of their shoulders. “Come at me, bro, I know Judo!”

“You do _not_ know Judo!” Madison laughed at the same time Roxanne pushed the arm off of her, shouting, “Oh, yeah right!”

“Ladies,” the three found themselves standing toe to toe with an older man in a suit. Madison knew what _distinguished_ looked like, and she knew that this man looked closer to _rumpled_. “Gentleman.”

“We’re _all_ girls,” Roxanne said in the ‘fight me’ tone she'd had since they were were four years old and Josie wasn’t allowed on the Little League team.

“Yeah, and my dad’s a lawyer,” Madison added, mouth running on automatic.

“Settle down,” he said, sounding more exasperated than concerned. “Lawyer or not, school rules state that _profanity_ is prohibited.” He slanted a look that somehow covered all three of them. “Watch your mouths in the future, please. I won’t be warning you again.”

“Yessir.”

“Wow,” one of the girls lingering at the low brick wall outside the double doors caught them before they made it inside. “Trouble with the principal on the first day. Someone’s looking for a good time.” She extended her fist.

Madison startled, looking between Roxanne and Josie before bumping her knuckles against the other girl’s. “Always.”

* * *

_Eight Years Later_

Jack didn’t know what he was going to do.

Normally he’d ask Madison, but she was six hours North, at school in Davis, so he busied himself flipping through the elective booklet until dinner where his parents shot each other worried looks and asked him if he was okay between bites.

“Are you calling Maddie tonight?” He finally cracked when he was putting the dishes away.

“No,” Dad said slowly, and Jack could see the struggle he had not casting another worried look in Dad’s direction.

Through his life Jack would be asked by friends, family therapists, and people he met on the street if he ran into a sort of quasi-homophobia directed at his dads, through him. If he ever got invasive questions like, ‘How did they…?” or “Who tops?”. Disgusting as they were, they happened, but far more often was the mundane, ‘So what do you call them?’, and while Jack had started his life calling Josh, ‘Dad’ and Darryl, ‘Daddy’, at some point it just seemed easier--or perhaps less embarrassing--to call them both ‘Dad’. ‘Doesn’t that get confusing?’ his friends would always ask. ‘Not in my head,’ Jack would say. ‘And not in my house. There’s only two of them, I have to be talking to at least one, it shouldn’t take much to figure out which.’

For clarification, though, he was speaking to Darryl, now.

“Okay, cool.”

“But,” Dad placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing from her favorite little brother if _you_ wanted to give her a call.”

“Can I skip the rest of this?” Jack grinned, holding up a dish.

“Nice try!” Dad popped his head around the fridge door, smile bigger than Jack’s, and snatched a tupperware from the counter. “Chores first, then phone.”

* * *

It was another hour and a half before he made it to his room, choosing Elementary reruns and making disgusted faces at any minor display of PDA from his dads over an immediate retreat.

“Hey, Jammie,” Madison picked up, sounding distracted.

“Hey, sis, you busy?”

“Elbow deep in turtle poop,” she said, “but it’s just the one elbow so I think I’m good for a few minutes. What’s up?”

“I don’t know which electives to take.”

“That’s all? Man, I thought for sure you were going to have bully trouble.”

“Why?” He scoffed. “People _like_ me.”

“I don’t know, kids are dicks?”

“Well they’re not being dicks to me.” He rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help me or not? I have three days to pick something.”

“Sure, this is easy anyway. Take theater.”

“Really?” He flipped through the booklet. “But Aunt Rebecca teaches it.” He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but at fourteen the whine was there no matter how he tried to will it away.

“I know it seems weird, but you’re going to make all A’s--trust me on that--and you used to _love_ theater.”

“I did?” Jack set the book aside, leaning back on his pillows.

“Yeah, when you were, like...six or seven. Hold on a sec, I need to step out of here,” Madison grunted out. There was a clunk followed by a slush--both worrying sounds if it weren’t for the fact that his sister often worked in gross environments--and then Madison was back, sounding a little clearer than before. “Yeah, Josh used to take you with him to the place you were adopted from on the weekends. Tranquility?”

“Serenity.”

“Yeah, yeah! When Dad and me came to pick you up you’d be doing all the play stuff with Rebecca, when she was working with some of the older kids.” She laughed. “You were good at remembering the lines, it was really cute.”

“I kind of remember that.” Jack stuck a finger in his ear. “But it was forever ago.”

“Seven years ago,” said Madison, flatly. “You’re not that old, dork.”

He sighed, staring at the book by his ankle. “Are you _sure_?”

“You called for my advice, that’s my advice. Just trust me, okay?”

* * *

“Double W!” Rebecca bundled him into a hug as soon as she stepped into the theater classroom, seeming to try and shake him up and down with little result. “Man, you have gotten _tall_! Every time I see you it’s another three inches. Look at you, you gangle monster!”

“Hi, Aunt Rebecca,” he patted her back as best he could with his elbows at such an awkward angle. “Sorry, _Ms._ _Bunch_.”

She pulled away, tapping the side of her nose. “I know I’m not supposed to show favoritism, but it’s so hard when I get a Whitefeather in my class.”

“I had no idea Madison took theater.”

“Oh, yeah! She was a great stage hand.”

Jack’s lips flattened to a line. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“You though,” Rebecca framed his face with her hands. “I remember how much you loved acting.”

“Aunt Re--Ms. Bunch, that was years ago--”

“Yeah, the spotlight’s more for you.” Rebecca grinned at him, and there was a glint in her eye that Jack didn’t _quite_ trust. “You stick with me, kid. We’re gonna go places.”

_Trust me, she said._ Jack smiled warily, his thoughts focused on the date Madison would arrive home from school and what level of revenge this particular stunt warranted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, folks! I may write more for these two later, and this little family unit specifically but I think here is a nice place to wrap up. Thanks for following along <3!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to throw more prompts at me over on [Tumblr](http://feoplepeel.tumblr.com/)!


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